He kissed her again, left her only long enough to switch on a lamp and fight for control. When he turned to her again and stripped off his shirt, he saw a delicate flush rise in her cheeks.
"You're beautiful," she whispered, and she touched him, running her hand lightly over his chest, stroking the tapering line of dark hair that arrowed down his belly. She hesitated, looked up and into his eyes, and cupped her hand over the straining denim that defined the power of what she'd done to him.
He groaned, covered her hand with his, endured that sweet, yearning touch as long as he could without going crazy.
"You're the one who's beautiful," he said, and he drew her close and undid the long zipper down the back of her dress.
Her eyes turned to a smoky gold. She watched his face as he undressed her. He did it slowly, as slowly as he could manage without coming apart. She trembled under the brush of his hands, sighed as he bared her to his eyes and mouth, and when she stood before him, wearing only a wisp of white lace and her high-heeled sandals, he knelt before her, curved his hands around her hips, kissed his way down her belly.
She trembled.
"Oh," she whispered, "oh, Lord..."
He pulled the wisp of lace aside, touched her. Felt the dew of her feminine heart against his hand, and then he put his mouth to her, stroked her with his tongue, kissed her and caressed her until she cried out. He rose then, scooped her into his arms, and brought her down onto the bed.
"Tyler," she said, in a voice filled with wonder. "Tyler..."
She held her arms up to him and he went into them, kissing her mouth, her throat, kissing her breasts, exulting in the taste of her honey-sweet skin. She moaned and arched toward him as he kissed her mouth again and stroked his tongue against hers.
"Please," she sobbed, "Tyler, please... "
"You belong to me," he said fiercely, as he parted her thighs.
"Yes," she said, "yes, oh, yes, Tyler, yes..."
He kissed her again and she returned his kisses the same way, with hunger, not with tenderness, her need for him as complete as her surrender. She tugged at his jeans, making desperate little cries, and he rolled away from her, yanked down his zipper, kicked off his boots, his jeans, his shorts, and she lifted her arms to him, her eyes as deep and dark as the night.
"Come into me," she whispered. "Tyler, please, take me. Take me..."
And, on one long, possessive, silken thrust, he did.
CHAPTER TEN
HAD hours gone by, or was it only moments?
Caitlin couldn't tell. She'd shattered in Tyler's arms, shattered into a million pieces and soared with him into the hot, molten heart of the sun. Now, lying beneath him, her heart still racing against his, his face buried in her throat, she knew that nothing in her life had prepared her for tonight.
Giving herself to Tyler had changed her, forever.
She sighed, stirred in his embrace.
He felt her shift beneath him. "I'm crushing you," he said softly, but when he tried to roll off her, she shook her head and tightened her arms around him.
"Stay," she whispered, and closed her eyes, not trusting herself to say more because her throat felt constricted, as if she might weep, and she didn't want that to happen.
If she wept, how would she explain that it was from joy and not from sorrow?
"Stay with me," she whispered again, and she felt his lips curve against her throat.
He was holding her close. And it felt so right to lie with him this way, with his body over hers, protecting her. She could feel the beat of his heart as it steadied and slowed, smell his scent. The taste of him lingered on her mouth.
He was still inside her, still a part of her, joined to her in a way she'd never been joined with any man before.
And she was glad, so glad, that Tyler had been the first.
She hadn't planned it this way; she'd never consciously thought about "saving" herself for any one man. There'd been opportunities. Boys in high school, even one she'd gone steady with. There'd been boys during the two years she'd spent away at college, too, and once in a while she went to the movies or out dancing with a nice guy who was the foreman of a neighboring ranch.
The thing of it was, there'd never been anyone who really mattered.
Sometimes, she'd even wondered if she was lacking something. She had a secret passion for romance novels and for movies that made her cry. She kept those things to herself because it was tough enough riding herd on a bunch of cowboys and standing up to Jonas without having anybody know about her secret vices. She'd decided that maybe she was just one of those women who found their passion in make-believe worlds, not in the real one.
That was okay. It was safer.
And yet—and yet, what she'd felt in Tyler's arms put her "secret passions" into perspective. Fantasy didn't stand up to reality. His touch, his kisses, the way he'd made love to her...
Nothing, nothing, had prepared for this night.
Tyler whispered her name, rose on one elbow and kissed her mouth. He took his time doing it, sucking on her bottom lip, teasing her lips open, stroking the tip of his tongue against hers. Sensation after sensation raced through her, turning her inside out, threatening to stop her heart.
It was just a kiss, and it thrilled her.
"You taste delicious," he said softly.
Caitlin smiled. "So do you."
"Like..." He frowned, bent to her, kissed her again. "I can't decide. Like whipped cream? Honey?" Gently he nibbled her mouth. "Or maybe cotton candy."
"Cotton candy?" she said, and laughed.
"Mmm. Pink cotton candy, and I've always had a weakness for pink cotton candy." He smiled, stroked her hair back from her face. "Cait? Are you all right?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Sweetheart, you should have told me."
Caitlin blushed. "I tried to."
Suddenly she felt unaccountably shy. It was silly, considering what they had just done, but there was something about lying naked in a man's arms and discussing the loss of your virginity...
"Yeah." His voice was rough. "I was beyond listening."
"Would it—would it have mattered?"
Tyler caught an auburn curl in his fingers and brought it to his mouth. "I'd have gone slower," he said softly, "or I'd have tried to. Did I hurt you?"
"No. Oh, no. You didn't hurt me. It was—it was—"
"Wonderful," he said gently.
"Yes. Incredible. I thought my heart would—would—"
"Burst? Yes, I know." He rolled to his side and took her with him, still holding her, still inside her, still wondering how such a miracle could have happened. He was a man who believed in equality. He'd never condemned a woman in his life for having the same sexual appetites and experience a man had, but that moment when he'd felt that fragile barrier, when he'd realized he was Caitlin's first lover... He gave her a lingering, tender kiss. "That's how it was for me, too."
"I'm glad." She felt the rush of heat in her face and knew she was blushing. "I mean, some men might not be thrilled to find themselves making love to—to—"
Tyler slipped his hand into Caitlin's hair, watched as the colors of autumn slid through his fingers.
"A virgin," he said softly.
"Yes. Oh, it's such an old-fashioned word."
"It's a beautiful word," Tyler whispered, and kissed her again.
Caitlin sighed and snuggled closer in his arms. "I'm glad you think so."
"What man wouldn't?"
"Well, you have to remember..." She smiled and touched her hand to his face. "I grew up with three brothers."
"Stepbrothers," he said quickly. "You're not really related to Jonas."
"Of course not." Her smile tilted. "He never lets me forget that."
"Hell," Tyler said, and leaned his forehead against hers. "I didn't mean... I just..." Tell her, a voice inside suddenly said, tell her why you needed to say that, that you had to remind her that there's no Baron blood in her veins. Tell her th
e truth. Who you think you are. Hell, who you know you are. That you're a Baron, but your own father got rid of you...
"Tyler?"
He blinked and focused on Caitlin's face. Her eyes were dark with concern. Concern, for him. No one, no woman, had ever looked at him that way.
"Tyler, what is it?" She lifted her hand to his cheek and he turned his face, pressed his mouth against her palm. "I know you and Jonas dislike each other, but he's been good to me. He raised me. And now—"
Tyler silenced her with a kiss. These moments belonged to the two of them. The last thing he wanted was to hear the woman in his arms defend the son of a bitch he was going to destroy. And he had to destroy him. It was either that or spend the rest of his life consumed by hatred.
"So," he said, with deliberate lightness, "what were you going to tell me about your stepbrothers? Don't tell me they were the ones who sat you down and told you about the birds and the bees."
Caitlin laughed. "Are you kidding? Nobody told me about birds and bees, Tyler. I learned about stallions and mares the day I wandered into our stables when one of our studs—"
Our stables. Our studs. She wasn't a Baron, the old man wouldn't let her forget that she wasn't, but that was the way she thought of herself, as a Baron, as someone who loved Espada almost as much as he despised it.
"—Slade, I think it was, turned around and saw me. I thought he was going to pass out. My stepbrothers, tell me about sex? They taught me to rope horses and herd cows, but sex was for other girls, not for their little sister." She grinned. "They waited up for me, after my first date."
"They did, huh?"
"They loved me," she said simply, "and I loved them. Of course..." She laughed softly and traced the outline of Tyler's lips with the tip of her finger. "Of course, that didn't keep me from trying to beat them up. Well, one at a time, naturally."
"Naturally." Tyler grinned and rolled her beneath him. "I'm impressed."
"See, they had this club..."
"Mmm." He bent his head, nuzzled her hair from her throat. "Los Lobos."
"Yes." She bit back a moan as he brushed his mouth against the skin at the delicate juncture of neck and shoulder. "That's right. I told you about—about—"
Tyler caught her hands and held them. "Go on," he said softly, as he kissed the hollow of her throat, the slope of her breast. She could feel his lips curve into a smile against her flesh. "Don't let me distract you."
Caitlin closed her eyes. "It was—it was just the three of them," she said, in a breathless flurry of softly whispered words. "And eventually they made me a member, but when they got older, they sometimes met without me in the hayloft ... oh. Oh, Tyler..."
"They met in the hayloft," he said, as he cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs across the yearning tips. "Without you."
"Without me. I guess they talked about—" Her voice broke. He was kissing her belly, her thighs, biting gently at the soft, tender flesh. "About girls," she said, in a choked whisper. "And—and one time, I heard them talking about virgins and agreeing that—that..." Caitlin's hips arched from the bed. "I can't think when—when..." She cried out and he moved up her body and kissed her mouth, drinking in her cries, glorying in her surrender.
"They were boys, sweetheart," he whispered, slipping his hands under her bottom. "And maybe they knew that taking a girl's virginity is a hell of a responsibility."
"Yes." She made a soft little sound as he parted her thighs. "That's why I thought you might not be pleased when you realized—when you realized—"
He entered her slowly this time, holding back, sliding into her easily, spinning out the ecstasy of the moment, watching her eyes fill with his image as her body filled with his heat, watching as the pleasure caught her up in a surging wave of desire.
"You gave me a gift." He moved, then moved again. She rose to him, sobbed out his name as she put her arms around him, as she closed around him like a satin sheath. "An incredible gift. Cait," he said thickly, "Cait..."
Cait, my love, he thought.
And then he stopped thinking and spilled himself deep inside her again.
When the first light of the new day touched the hills, Caitlin sat up and looked out the window.
"Look," she said. "Tyler, what a glorious sight."
Tyler leaned on his elbow and propped his head on his hand. "Glorious," he agreed lazily, and stroked his fingers lightly over her breasts. Despite the long night they'd shared, his caress brought a telling flush of desire to her face.
The sight, the knowledge that just his touch could arouse her, filled him with possessive pleasure.
"I'm talking about the sunrise," she said, with a little laugh.
"Mmm." Tyler ran his hand up Caitlin's throat, gently cupped her face and brought her mouth to his for a kiss. "Want to go outside and watch it?"
"Oh, yes. Just give me a minute to get dr... Tyler?" She squealed as he rose from the bed and lifted her, and the blanket she clutched, into his arms. "Tyler," she said, as he strode toward the patio doors, "we can't..."
Her protests were useless. Tyler opened the sliding doors, stepped out into the awakening morning, wrapped them both within the king-size blanket and sat down in one of the patio chairs with her in his lap.
`We can do anything we want," he said smugly, "because we're the only two people on the planet."
Caitlin's smile faded. If only it were true. If only she and Tyler were alone.. .but they weren't. Jonas stood between them like an omnipresent apparition. What venom there'd been in his voice, when he'd spoken Tyler's name last night.
"He's up to no good, missy. You'll see."
"You're wrong," she'd said, and Jonas had looked at her and smiled slyly, the way he always did just before he raked in the chips.
She shivered.
"Sweetheart?" Tyler's arms tightened around her. "Are you cold? Shall we go inside?"
"No. Oh, no. I just—I just felt a chill for a second, that's all."
He drew her closer and gently urged her head onto his shoulder. Her body was soft and warm; her hair was a tangled skein of silk against his cheek. She smelled sweetly mysterious, her perfume a subtle blending of memories of the passion-filled night and the promise of the new day, and he wasn't sure which he wanted more, to just go on sitting with her in his arms, holding her close and inhaling her fragrance, or to spread the blanket in the grass and make love to her again.
"Comfortable?" he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Caitlin sighed. "Mmm."
"You're sure you're warm enough?"
"Mmm."
Tyler chuckled, leaned back in the chair and rested his chin on the top of her head.
"I like a woman who's easy to please," he said softly.
She sighed, turned her face toward him and kissed his throat. "Jonas wouldn't agree," she said, before she could stop herself.
"That old bastard." His voice hardened, but she knew, from the way his arms tightened around her, that the sudden edge she heard had nothing to do with her. "How in hell do you put up with him?"
"He's a difficult man, I agree. But—"
"Oh, hell." Tyler caught her chin in his hand, lifted her face to his and kissed her. "The last thing I want to do is argue over Jonas Baron." He smiled, kissed her again, lingering over the sweetness of her mouth. "Tell me about Caitlin McCord."
Caitlin smiled back. "You want the one-minute story, or the two?"
"I want to know everything about her." He stroked a fingertip along her lips. "What kind of little girl was she?"
"A tomboy," she said instantly. "A skinny kid with knobby knees and sharp elbows." She laughed softly. "That's what Gage always said, anyway."
"Gage." Tyler forced himself to smile. "One of the Barons."
"The youngest, yes. You'd like him."
"I doubt it." Tyler's smile glittered. "Not if he's anything like his old man."
"Oh, he isn't. None of my stepbrothers are anything like their father."
> "Well, that takes the whole lot of them up a notch in my estimation, sight unseen."
"They've all made their own ways in the world."
Tyler's brows lifted. "Baron didn't set them up in whatever it is they do?"
Caitlin laughed. "Set them up? No way. They defied him, Tyler. Each and every one of them." Sighing, she snuggled closer. "It's funny, but you remind me of them in lots of ways."
"What ways?" Tyler said, and told himself it really didn't matter. Even if he shared the blood of the Baron brothers, he wasn't one of them. "What ways?" he asked again, and cursed himself for wanting to hear the answer.
"Well, Gage built his own empire, from the ground up." Caitlin lifted Tyler's hand, brought it to her lips. "I get the feeling you did, too."
He shrugged. "Working up a sweat doesn't mean much." He paused, cleared his throat. "What about the other two? What are they like?"
"Travis—he's the eldest—Travis is like you, too." She turned his hand over, kissed the callused palm. "He can go from being warm and charming to tough as steel in the blink of an eye. And Slade..." Caitlin smiled. "Let's just say that I'd love to see you and Slade play poker sometime. I don't know which of you would do a better job of calling the other's bluff."
Travis nodded. "You, ah, you're fond of your stepbrothers," he said, after a moment.
"I adore them all." She sighed. "And I know you don't like hearing it, but I love Jonas, too." She felt Tyler stiffen and she turned and put her arms around his neck. "My mother married him when I was ten. Two years later, she ran off to New York with an actor she met at a little theater she'd conned Jonas into backing."
"And left you behind?" Tyler's mouth thinned. "Was the woman crazy?"
"Leaving me was the best thing she could have done, Tyler," Caitlin said, with a little smile. "By the time she married Jonas, I'd forgotten the names of half the men she'd lived with. Jonas kept me, even after he divorced her. He gave me a home. Stability. Love. Well, his kind of love, anyway."
"Love," Tyler said, and grimaced. "I've heard him talk to you, Cait. Does he ever do anything but bark?"
"That's just the way he is. It's not personal."
Sandra Marton - Taming of Tyler Kincaid Page 14
